Colby Conspiracy

“Striking Distance by Debra Webb is a fast-moving, sensual blend of mystery and suspense…I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard

“…brims with tightly woven suspense around every corner, and twists and turns abound. Webb moves effortlessly between two very diverse romances and masterfully keeps the reader on the edge until the last page.”

—Romantic Times on Striking Distance

“Webb reaches into our deepest nightmares and pulls out a horrifying scenario. She delivers the ultimate villain for our computer-driven world—a techno sadist. Fortunately, she also gives us a battle-scarred hero who is still willing to fight and a loyal heroine who believes in justice.”

—Romantic Times on Dying to Play

“A chilling tale that will keep readers turning pages long into the night, Dying to Play is a definite keeper.”

—Romance Reviews Today on Dying to Play

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the world of the Colby Agency. The Colby stories are very dear to my heart and I hope you will enjoy this one.

For five years now I’ve been fortunate enough to write stories about Victoria Colby and her staff of fine private investigators. I have worked hard to make each and every character as real and true to reader expectation as possible. Last year, Harlequin and I brought you the story of James Colby Jr.’s return (Striking Distance). Many, many of you wrote to me to tell me how very much you loved this story. Your letters and e-mails meant a great deal to me. Telling Jim’s (aka Seth’s) story the way it needed to be told was something I had hoped to be able to do. I have you and Harlequin to thank for that amazing opportunity.

Now I am pleased to bring you Colby Conspiracy. This story will give you a close-up insight into the more human side of Victoria and her private world. As always when I write a story, I hope to send you on an edge-of-your-seat ride that will touch every emotion. Oh, and and don’t forget the bonus features—I’ve written something very special for you there!

Best to you,

This book is dedicated to all the readers who have followed this marvelous journey with me from the beginning with the very first Colby Agency story. Thank you so much for coming back over and over again. I hope that I will never disappoint you and that we will venture into many, many more Colby Agency stories to come. Cheers!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

BONUS FEATURES

CHAPTER ONE

THE RAIN had stopped. Victoria Colby-Camp stood near the massive window, staring out at the shimmering downtown city lights reflected in the inky black of the Chicago River. This wasn’t really the best time for her to be distracted. There were more hands that needed to be shaken, more affirmations of gratitude that should be made. Only an hour ago, she had received her second prestigious award as Chicago’s Woman of the Year, but she couldn’t help being drawn away from the glitz and the glamour and toward the unknown and the darkness shrouding the city she loved.

No matter that she stood in the mammoth marble lobby of the R. R. Donnelley Building, with its ancient Greek and Roman architecture, or that hundreds of silk-and sequined-clad guests mingled around her. She could feel the subtle shift…the ever-so-slight change in the very atmosphere of her happy but fragile world.

She had every right to be ecstatic. After half a lifetime of hoping and praying, she finally had her son back, alive and growing stronger every day. Jim scarcely reflected even a hint of the Seth persona that had ravaged his life from the age of seven until just one year ago. Great strides had been made with therapy and the love of the woman who had somehow managed to touch his battered heart.

Tears welled in Victoria’s eyes when she thought of all that Tasha had done to save Jim, to bring back the man, as well as the boy, who had barely managed to survive behind the ugly mask of a killer named Seth. Victoria smiled and blinked the tears away. Jim and Tasha had set a date for their wedding. All that Victoria had hoped for was finally coming to fruition.

“My dear, this is no place for the guest of honor to be hiding out.”

Victoria turned at the sound of the familiar male voice belonging to the man she loved. He was the other long-awaited wish come true in her hard-won battle for happiness. The man she had loved and admired from afar for so very long was now her husband. Emotion tightened her throat. Though a part of her would always love James Colby, the father of her son, her heart now belonged fully to this man…to Lucas Camp.

She smiled, gloried in simply admiring his handsome, however rugged, face for a few seconds before she answered. “I just needed a moment to myself.”

The heart-stopping smile that he reserved just for her spread across her husband’s face. “This is your night, Victoria. You deserve this honor and more. Come.” He folded her arm around his. “Let’s have another toast to the Woman of the Year.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “To my lovely wife.”

Victoria allowed Lucas to lead her back into the midst of the festivities. She smiled, offered the expected gestures and comments with all the grace required of a woman in her position, but part of her could not let go of the nagging instinct that everything was about to change.

CHAPTER TWO

THOUGH DANIEL MARKS had had no aspirations about going out tonight, he was glad the rain had stopped. He watched the flow of pedestrians as they ventured from the shops and restaurants on the Magnificent Mile from his vantage point in a luxurious suite on one of the uppermost floors of the historic Allerton Crowne Plaza. He’d never been big on hotels, but he had to admit that even he was impressed by the stately European decor of this one. But what he found most appealing was the location. Close to everything that was anything in the city of Chicago, and one place in particular—the Colby Agency.

Daniel had made this journey to the Gold Coast district of the Windy City by special invitation. After leaving his military career six months ago, he had taken some time to consider what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Then he’d floated résumés to a few agencies of interest to see what sort of offers he might attract. Victoria Colby-Camp, the esteemed head of the Colby Agency, had invited him to come to her fair city and spend a week or two getting to know the area—at her expense, no less.

He was scheduled to meet with her on Friday. It was Monday night, and he’d been here two days already. Time enough to get the general lay of the land, and, with one of the city’s top real estate agents at his beck and call, to consider possible areas where he might want to live if he accepted a coveted position with the Colby Agency.

Daniel scrubbed a hand over his jaw and laughed at himself. He hadn’t been made an offer yet. Maybe he was assuming too much. He’d only been invited to meet with the venerable head of the agency. But he understood from her come-get-to-know-us offer that she was more than a little interested. He didn’t find that part surprising, since the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Homeland Security had been interested, as well.

Hell, he wasn’t oblivious to what he had to offer. He’d spent ten years in the army as a military strategist and left with the rank of major, knowing he could have been promoted to lieutenant colonel immediately if he’d opted to continue in service. Like most everything else in his life, he’d been on the fast track from the day he’d entered Officer Candidate School.

But he had grown weary of the bureaucracy. Of the political head games that only the military could play with such precision and impact. Not that he’d left the army with a bad taste in his mouth, not at all. Daniel, without question, maintained the deepest respect and admiration for those serving their country in any and all capacities. He simply felt as if he’d done all he could in that world. His momentum had hit a ceiling, and he was going nowhere fast, with more frustration than he cared to tolerate. A mere promotion in rank wasn’t enough. He needed more…something where he could reach his fullest potential without all the political runarounds.

That was the reason he was here in Chicago, rather than in D.C. talking to bigwigs at the Bureau or Homeland Security. With any government agency, he was bound to run into the same thing that had prompted him to move beyond the military. He felt certain that the only way to escape all the bureaucratic crap was to go into the private sector.

So here he was, lounging in a swanky hotel and pondering what the future might hold for a thirty-two-year-old man who’d spent every day of his life since college proudly wearing the prestigious uniform representing the American Armed Forces.

He ran his fingers through his regulation short hair. He couldn’t see that changing. It was force of habit. Every other week, he got a haircut. Nor were the physical rigors of his former career going to be left by the wayside. He intended to keep up the physical training for his general well-being, as well as to make him a better investigator—wherever he went to work. Keeping in shape served a dual purpose.

He turned away from the window and strode across to the minibar. The only thing he’d had any trouble getting used to was wearing civvies, civilian clothes. Twisting off the cap of a bottle of beer, he peered down at his stonewashed jeans and cotton cargo shirt. It wasn’t any hardship, really; it just took a little more planning. He’d worn the same assortment of uniforms for ten years; he’d never had to worry if anything matched or looked right together; army regulation had dictated his wardrobe, from the cap on his head to the shoes on his feet.

After a long draw from his beer, he dropped onto the foot of the bed and clicked on the local news. Might as well learn the bad with the good. If offered a position with the Colby Agency, he anticipated no reason why he would not be readily accepting. So far, he liked the city. Couldn’t see any problems with fitting in.

A frown nudged its way across his brow and he wondered, if he stayed here, would he finally move on to the next logical level of his life. His military career had proved too unpredictable for putting down any sort of permanent roots. He’d been involved in several short-term relationships, but nothing even remotely permanent or serious. His savings were quite adequate—he could afford to buy a home and finally put down those kinds of roots. Not that he’d actually known that sort of lifestyle even before joining the military. He was the quintessential military brat, moving from post to post his entire life, with the exception of the four years he’d spent at Columbia, studying political science with an emphasis on prelaw. Rather than going on to law school, he’d opted for the military, just like his father. He’d felt the need to do his duty. He did not regret that decision now.

His own parents had retired to Florida five years ago. Needless to say, his father was not happy about Daniel’s decision to return to civilian life, but he was man enough to restrain himself on the issue. Daniel’s mother simply wanted her one and only son—only offspring, for that matter—to be happy. She wanted grandchildren.

Daniel didn’t know if he was ready to do the whole wife-and-kids thing just yet, but he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the need to find something more stable, more long-standing, in a relationship.

He turned up his beer once more and downed a deep, satisfying swallow. Maybe he just needed to get laid. He’d steered clear of physical entanglements since officially exiting the military, more to ensure that a sexual relationship didn’t influence his objectivity about his future than anything else. He wanted to do this right. This was a big step for him.

The Colby Agency was where he wanted to be.

He’d researched a number of prominent private agencies and not a one could hold a candle to the Colby Agency’s sterling reputation. Victoria Colby-Camp selected only the cream of the crop as members of her staff. Daniel liked the idea that he would be working with the best of the best from all walks of life. Some were former military, like him, but others came from the Bureau, from the ranks of various smaller law enforcement agencies or other, more routine occupations.

He eased back onto the mound of pillows and scanned the television channels, studying the faces that represented local media. Faces with which he would become very familiar, since the Colby Agency was a very high-profile part of this city. Whether Victoria knew it or not, he had already made up his mind. This was where he wanted to be.

And whatever it took, he intended to make it happen.

CHAPTER THREE

CHICAGO BOASTED the largest Chinatown in the Midwest. Densely populated with more than 10,000 residents, mostly Chinese, the area south of Cermak Road was chock-full of Asian grocery and herbal shops, bakeries and restaurants. Traditional Chinese architecture filled the colorful streetscape, welcoming new visitors and longtime residents alike.

Amid the terra-cotta ornaments and mosaic murals, bold, sculpted lions guarded street-level doorways. But nothing in this eclectic culture could protect against the events playing out beyond the commercialized places where tourists wandered. Here, in this less-than-desirable section, there was no glamour or glitz, certainly no goodness. There was only fear waiting around every corner, and survival of the most ruthless was the single prevailing law.

The alley was long and narrow, dark and damp from the rain that had fallen earlier that evening.

Homicide Detective Carter Hastings was barely three months from retirement. He’d turned fifty-five a few weeks ago. Most might not consider that milestone old, but it was damned ancient for a cop. He had decided that he would spend the rest of his life making up for all he’d missed or failed to accomplish these past thirty-odd years. In particular, he wanted to rectify his relationship with his only child, his daughter. He’d let the job rule his life for far too long. He wanted to know his daughter the way a father should.

But that wasn’t going to happen now.

He stared into the cruel eyes of certain death towering over him. “I won’t tell anyone,” he pleaded. “I swear I won’t.” Carter had never considered himself a coward, but tonight, knowing what he knew, he begged for mercy. He needed just one more day to set to rights all he’d failed to follow through on…to say the things he hadn’t said to the daughter he loved.

But this kind of evil knew no mercy. He should have realized years ago that this secret would come back to haunt him, that he could never trust a person who clearly had no soul to stand by any sort of promise. He had no one to blame but himself.

He prayed he would be the only one to pay for his error in judgment.

“Stand up and take it like a man, Hastings.”

The words hissed out at him as if they’d risen straight from the hottest flames of hell. Funny, Carter mused, in a way they had. Even the grave’s unyielding grip couldn’t restrain this kind of evil.

“I kept that secret,” he urged, a growl of anger roaring up into his throat, sealing his fate once and for all. He would die tonight. Nothing outside an act of God could save him, and with him would go the whole truth. “You don’t have to do this. What purpose would it serve? It’s over. Do you hear me! It’s been over for nearly twenty years. No one has to know it was you.”

Diabolical laughter echoed off the cold, damp walls of the dilapidated buildings crowding in on the place and time that now represented the rest of his life.

“You always were a softy,” his killer taunted. “I knew that when you fell for the wife of the victim. All that stopped you from being just like me was your so-called principles.” Another of those cruel sounds that couldn’t really be called a laugh split the eerie quiet. “You brought this on yourself, Hastings. You should have stayed out of it. I will not tolerate your interference. Don’t expect me to believe you’re finally willing to set aside those fine principles.”

Carter closed his eyes and said a final goodbye to the daughter he’d been less than a decent father to. Sent a quick prayer heavenward for the other woman whose life his long-ago actions would forever change. Now he would never have the chance to make up for his past sins.

The sound of the bullet exploded around him an instant before he felt the hot metal sear his brain.

Carter watched his killer walk away without a single backward glance. Then his eyes closed for the last time.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE STICK turned pink.

A surge of giddiness attacked Tasha North.

She was pregnant!

She and Jim were going to have a baby!

The idea of what a grandchild would mean to Victoria sent another thrill through Tasha. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

“Come on, North, you can’t expect me to believe you haven’t missed your work at the CIA.”

Tasha blinked and lugged her thoughts back to the here and now. “I’m sorry, Martin. What did you say?”

Martin, decked out in his typical uniform—an elegant designer suit—for schmoozing, stared, exasperated, at her from across the linen-draped table. “I fly all the way from D.C. to Chicago, bring you to one of the ritziest restaurants in town and I still don’t warrant your full attention.”

She smiled, tamped down her excitement and focused her attention on the man who had been her mentor in the CIA and who, as he so bluntly put it, had gone to all of this trouble in an attempt to lure her back to the Agency.

“I apologize, Martin.” She sighed. She couldn’t tell him the real reason for her distraction. “I’m just a little preoccupied.” Lord, what an understatement. As she’d gotten dressed this evening for his unexpected visit, she’d considered that a new wardrobe would be in order. Her tight little skirts, the ones Jim loved so much, and formfitting blouses would have to be traded in for something more readily expandable.

Another wave of giddiness washed over her.

Okay, she told herself, stay calm. It was all she could do not to float right up out of her chair. She couldn’t wait to tell Jim.

She glanced around the crowded restaurant. Martin was right. He’d brought her to Carmine’s, a very classy Italian restaurant filled with Chicago’s social elite. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she didn’t appreciate the gesture, however wasted it was.

“The CIA misses your talent,” he went on, moving past the awkward moment and diving straight into the heart of the matter. “You’ve only worked part-time for the Colby Agency this past year, desk work at that. Don’t you miss doing field work? Getting deep into the game?”

Truth was, she had gone on only one mission into the field, period, and that hadn’t even been for the CIA. Apparently Martin had forgotten that little detail. Lucas Camp had recruited her—stolen her from the CIA, actually—and sent her on a mission that would forever change her life.

That’s how she’d met her fiancé…the father of her child…the man she loved with her entire being. James Colby, Junior. Jim. The man who’d stolen her heart even before she’d known his true identity.

“Martin,” she said with genuine sincerity, “you will always be very special to me. But I won’t be coming back to the CIA.” Surely after a year, he should have come to terms with that reality. Her life was here now. She had no intention of giving up one moment of her time with Jim. Happiness bloomed in her chest all over again. She and Jim were pregnant! And in just a few weeks, they would be married. Her heart fluttered.

Her life was perfect. All that she’d dreamed of was coming true.

Martin sat back in his chair and heaved a disgusted sigh. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

She shook her head, feeling too incredibly blissful to be depressed by his blatant discontent with her decision. “Sorry, but this is what I want to do. I hope you can understand that.”

He exhaled another of those impatient breaths. “I suppose, deep down, I suspected this would be your answer.”

Tasha studied her longtime friend and mentor. Same dark hair and handsome mug that kept the new female recruits mesmerized, but there was something more in his eyes now, something she couldn’t quite read. Her gaze narrowed with an abrupt surge of suspicion.

“What’re you up to, Martin?” She remembered that final test he’d put her through last year before pronouncing her field worthy, knew exactly what this powerful man was capable of.

A grin slanted across his face. He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and drew out an envelope. Plain, white. “You’re getting cynical on me, North.” He offered the envelope to her. “This is for you,” he said mysteriously.

Her uneasiness showing, Tasha accepted the envelope. “What’s this about?” The size and shape was consistent with that of a typical birthday card, but it wasn’t her birthday.

He nodded to the seemingly innocuous envelope. “Just open it.”

Dividing her attention between him and the envelope, she pulled loose the flap and reached inside. It was a card. She read the words embellishing the front and her heart leapt. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.

He’d heard the news.

“Martin, you’re such a shit. You really had me thinking you were going to be upset if I didn’t come back to the CIA.” She clutched the card to her chest and smiled at him, tears burning in her eyes. God, she would not cry in front of him. He’d never let her live it down. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? You’re very special to me, North.” His tone was uncharacteristically soft and genuine. “I want you to be happy, even if it means you won’t ever be coming back to the Agency.” He gestured to the card once more. “Now, look inside.”

Confused, she opened the card and her mouth gaped at what it contained. A voucher for an all-expenses-paid, two-week honeymoon in Europe from a renowned travel agency here in Chicago. When she’d found her voice, she blurted, “Martin, this is too much! I can’t accept this.”

He winked. “Sure you can. You just tell Lucas Camp that he might have stolen you from me, but you still love me the best.” His lips tilted into that lopsided grin again. “Let’s see that old bastard top this.”